


oh lord, heaven knows (we belong way down below)

by quiddative



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Demon Deals, Demon Harry, Dirty Talk, M/M, Minor Character Death, The Potters Die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 04:09:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5077207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiddative/pseuds/quiddative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Draco,” the demon purred. He leaned forward as much as he could without actually crossing the circle, which Draco hoped meant that it was functioning as it was suppose to. “A harsh name for such a pretty and soft thing, but it suits you.” He stepped back, keeping his eyes trained on Draco like a snake on its prey. “Anyway, like I said, you must be desperate to have called for me. What do you want?”</p><p>(Desperate times call for desperate measures.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh lord, heaven knows (we belong way down below)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween! The complete photoset can be found [here](http://quiddatively.tumblr.com/post/131911937759/oh-lord-heaven-knows-we-belong-way-down-below) on [my Tumblr](http://quiddatively.tumblr.com/)!

As Draco finished adding the final sigils to complete the summoning circle, he couldn’t help reflecting on the events that led him to this point.

Sixteen years ago, the war took a turn for the worse when the Dark Lord murdered the last of the Potters–James, Lily, and little Harry. Still wary of the infamous prophecy that warned of his potential defeat, he went after the Longbottoms next, further decimating the Order’s numbers.

Draco vaguely remembered his father celebrating what looked like a victory for all pure-bloods at the time. However, the happy mood at Malfoy Manor gradually evaporated as the full extent of the Dark Lord’s madness was revealed in the following months. Soon, not even pure-bloods could guarantee their safety in the new, increasingly bleak regime.

With Dumbledore still alive and based at Hogwarts, the Order continued to put up an admirable resistance against the Dark Lord. But no matter what spell or curse was thrown at him, the Dark Lord always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone, including his own Death Eaters. 

Draco grew up learning to keep his head down, prioritising his survival in the Dark Lord’s reign over everything else. Like his peers, Draco had dutifully taken the Dark Mark when he turned sixteen. As long as they obeyed the Dark Lord, his father constantly whispered, they would be safe. 

But that all changed on the night the Dark Lord tortured Draco’s mother to death in a fit of rage. His aunt Bellatrix, the Dark Lord’s favourite, didn’t even try to protest.

His mother’s screams were still ringing in Draco’s ears when he approached the Order. “Why should we trust you?” a battle-hardened Molly Weasley had growled, her wand pointed at his throat. Draco remembered hearing that she recently lost her husband and eldest son. 

He did not flinch from her steely gaze. “Because he killed my mother,” he answered.

For a while, it seemed like the tides of the war were finally going to turn in the Order’s favour, with Severus Snape and Draco both spying for Dumbledore. But when the Dark Lord set Nagini on Severus after discovering his betrayal, Draco knew it was only a matter of time before the same fate befell him.

And that was how he found himself alone in his ancestral home’s cellar on Halloween, kneeling before a large summoning circle he’d spent the past hour painstakingly drawing by hand. He’d been tempted to use magic several times but the grimoire had stressed that the ritual’s strength relied on sweat and blood–pain and suffering.

Draco sat back on his heels and glanced over his shoulder at the only entrance into the cellar, breathing a sigh of relief when the layers of locking spells he’d placed on it remained undisturbed. His reason for choosing tonight of all nights to perform the ritual was twofold: firstly, it was the anniversary of the beginning of Britain’s downfall, so the Dark Lord was currently holding a celebration for all his Death Eaters upstairs in the ballroom; secondly, it was the night when the veil between the spirit world and the world of the living was thinnest. 

He turned back to the circle, going over every line and sigil once more before moving on to the final stage of the ritual. He picked up the grimoire he found in the library at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place a few weeks ago and opened it to the page he was looking for, squinting his eyes against the low candlelight. 

He exhaled and began to read. Although his voice was quiet, the words echoed deafeningly through the cellars. Whether it was because the ritual was actually working or because of his own imagination, Draco felt a shiver go down his spine, as if from a corpse’s touch. 

After what felt like hours but must have only been a few minutes, Draco reached the last line. Then, barely even a second after finishing, he heard a deep voice chuckle, “Well, aren’t you a pretty thing. Come here often?”

It took every ounce of Malfoy discipline he possessed for Draco to not scream. He jumped back, clutching the tome tightly against his heaving chest and looked up.

Standing nonchalantly with his hand on his waist in the centre of the circle was a boy with horns. He looked like he was around Draco’s age and had pale skin that rivalled the infamous Malfoy complexion. He also had black hair and dark green eyes that reminded Draco of the legendary African swamps he learned about when he was a child; for centuries, thousands of wizards went missing in those swamps, never to be heard from again.

Despite the boy’s short stature, Draco could feel raw power unlike anything he’d ever felt before–including the Dark Lord himself–radiate from his body like water through a broken dam. He didn’t dare look away. “State your name,” he commanded, though his voice sounded far less steady than he’d hoped.

The boy– _no, demon_ , Draco’s mind whispered fearfully–chuckled again. “It’s been an age since I’ve been topside; you must be  _desperate_.” The demon began to lazily pace around the circle. “And I’m afraid you wouldn’t be able to pronounce my name even if I told you what it was–the human tongue’s kind of limited in that way, you know?” His green eyes took on a threatening glint as they slowly roved up and down Draco’s body. The demon licked his lips, smirking. “But I can think of plenty of other uses for it,” he purred.

Draco took another step back and reached for his wand with a shaky hand. “What should I call you then?” he asked, swallowing around the stone in his throat.

“Whatever you want,  _darling_ ,” said the demon. He stopped at the edge of the circle closest to Draco. “Well?”

Draco blurted out the first name that came to his mind. “Harry, then,” he announced, thinking about the little boy that didn’t even get the chance to take on the Dark Lord before his death.

“Hmm, Harry...” said the demon. He tapped his chin with his index finger and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Harry, Harry, Harry... _Harry_.” He turned back to Draco with a wicked grin. “I like it. And what about you? What should I call  _you_ , my dear?”

Draco sucked in a breath. The grimoire warned against giving one’s full name to a demon but as long as the demon was in the circle, the summoner was safe. Theoretically. “D-Draco. My name’s Draco.”

“ _Draco_ ,” the demon purred. He leaned forward as much as he could without actually crossing the circle, which Draco hoped meant that it was functioning as it was suppose to. “A harsh name for such a pretty and soft thing, but it suits you.” He stepped back, keeping his eyes trained on Draco like a snake on its prey. “Anyway, like I said, you must be desperate to have called for  _me_. What do you want?”

Despite feeling no bigger than a mouse, Draco still squared his shoulders and recited the words he’d been practicing for the last few days. “There is a madman wreaking havoc in our world; his real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. I want you to kill him while also protecting myself and my father.”

“Murder? That seems quite petty–” The demon cut himself off and his nostrils flared as if he’d discovered a new scent. “Oh, well now.  _That’s_  interesting.”

“What? What is?”

Harry chuckled again. “Normally I’d ask for something in return but luckily for you, I’m feeling generous. I have a weakness for pretty things, you see.” Draco’s cheeks burned. “Your Riddle has split his soul into six parts–horcruxes. I can smell them–one of them is in this house right now, even.”

Draco gasped. He’d heard rumours of wizards deliberately splitting their souls in the quest for immortality but to split it into  _six parts_  was unheard of. No wonder the Order’s been losing–even if someone managed to hit him with the Killing Curse, he’d just return. They were doomed no matter what.

“So what is it,  _Draco_? Do you want me to destroy just one horcrux or all seven parts of his soul?” Harry smirked. “But I suspect I already know the answer to that.”

“All of them,” Draco replied. “I–I want you to destroy all of them.”

“I  _could_ ,” said Harry lightly, “but it’s going to cost you.”

“M-My soul, right? That’s what you want?” Draco still wasn’t ready to make such a sacrifice but the grimoire had been firm about this bit: a bargain with a demon could only be made through the exchange of the human’s soul. He tried to calm his suddenly rapidly beating heart; he had the dreadful suspicion that the demon could hear it.

“Hmm, something of this magnitude is worth more than  _just_  a soul, darling,” said Harry. His smirk widened like the cat that caught the canary. “I’ve made a lot of deals during my existence and let me tell you, souls become so  _boring_  after a while, especially tarnished souls. Now,  _innocence_ –that’s a priceless commodity downstairs.”

Harry’s nostrils flared again and this time, Draco  _knew_  what he was scenting. 

“You’re a virgin,” the demon whispered. “Darling, you’re practically worth a fortune.”

“What are you talking about?” Draco hissed.

“Sex, Draco, I’m talking about sex. Which means fucking you into the ground  _and making you mine_.” Harry’s pupils dilated. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“N-No, I–”

“Don’t try to lie to a demon, Draco, I can see into your soul’s darkest desires.” Harry’s voice dropped to a deep growl that made Draco’s toes curl. “I know what you want, what you’ve been  _aching_  for since you turned fourteen. You want to know what it feels like to have a cock–a real one rammed down your throat until you’re choking. You want to know what it’ll feel like to have a hand that isn’t your own wrapped around your cock or holding you down while you’re being fucked like a little bitch. And even a whole fist in your arse, filling you up until you feel like you’re being split in two. Tell me, Draco, am I wrong?”

Draco was breathing so heavily now his vision shook. To his utter shame, he could feel his trousers tighten around his crotch.

Because the demon was telling the truth.

Harry’s eyes snapped to his groin and his smirk widened like he’d just won the lottery. “I knew it,” he purred. His eyes returned to Draco’s. “Well? Do we have a deal?”

Draco desperately tried to shove the images Harry had invoked from his mind, with little success. “What  _is_  the deal, exactly?” 

“You. Or rather, your v-card for the destruction of your Dark Lord–all seven parts of his soul. Oh, and protection for you and your father, of course.”

“A-And my soul?”

The demon spread his arms. “Safe, I promise.” He dropped his arms. “So? What’s it going to be?”

Draco closed his eyes and exhaled. He recalled his mother’s face as she took her last, shuddering breath on this earth. “Deal, but only if you fulfill your part first,” he said.

Harry’s smile was almost benign–if Draco could ignore his sharp canines. “Deal. Now all we have to do is seal it with a kiss.”

“A kiss?”

“That’s right, didn’t that little book of yours tell you?”

It did, in fact, but Draco had been so caught up that he’d forgotten about that. He swallowed but took one step forward, then another and another until he was standing face to face with the demon, just outside of the circle. “Well, go on,” said Harry, “I can’t very well touch you from inside this thing, can I? And you’ll have to let me out as well if you want me to fulfill my end of the bargain.”

Draco took another breath and slowly brushed his foot over the edge of the circle, breaking it.

He didn’t even have time to let out a gasp as Harry instantly had him pinned against the wall with both his wrists above his head. “Wha–” He was cut off when Harry crashed their mouths together in a hot, bruising kiss. Draco closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. It was alright, the grimoire said as long as the conditions of the deal were clear–

Harry bit down–hard–on his bottom lip and Draco moaned from the mixture of pain and pleasure that shot through his nerves. He was forced to spread his legs when Harry pushed his knees open with his leg, rubbing his hardening cock against Draco’s thigh. Draco let out a gasp as Harry’s leg rubbed up against his cock and couldn’t stop his body from pushing back, seeking more pressure. 

Then, as abruptly as their kiss started, Harry pulled back, swiping his tongue over his lips and looking like a triumphant king. “Pleasure doing business with you, Draco. I look forward to collecting my due.” With that, he disappeared in a swirl of black smoke.

Draco slumped against the wall. He didn’t know whether he or the demon was looking forward to it the most.


End file.
